A Game of Votes
by GinevraEowynUndomiel
Summary: Sansa Stark is a Capitol Hill staffer and daughter of the vice president. It's tough enough being the girlfriend of the President's son without the watchful eyes of Secret Service Agent Sandor Clegane and the rest of the country. Modern AU, Washington, DC, strong!Sansa, SanSan
1. Prologue

**A/N: **I know I have two other works in progress, but this story would not leave me alone! I feel pretty confident that it might actually go somewhere. Let me know what you think!

* * *

**Prologue**

_March 2019_

**Ned**

His fingers tapped nervously on his thigh as he waited. Staffers whisked past him without a word. The impersonal email from one secretary to another had set the meeting for 2:00. It was nearing 3:00 with no sign of the man. Typical.

But the wait was to be expected when your closest friend was the president of the United States and you the lowly governor from Minnesota. So Ned waited. Surely Robert knew he was coming. There was only one reason he had been called to Washington with 2020 looming ever closer.

And even if it was something else entirely, the visit hadn't been a total waste. Sansa was living on her own in Georgetown and working for Senator Baelish's office. They'd met for lunch, and she'd shown him the townhouse she shared with some other girls who worked on the Hill as well as the office she worked in. Even Joffrey had taken time out of what was surely a busy schedule for a freshman representative and said hello.

If Robert extended the offer, that would make for plenty of excuses to dote upon his elder daughter. Living in the capital was horrendously expensive, and while Petyr Baelish paid his staffers better than some, Sansa was surely still making a pittance compared to what she could be were she closer to home. But she'd always been driven, and he and Catelyn had supported her dreams emotionally and financially. Even with the scholarship money Yale had thrown her way, they were lucky that Robb had gone to Ohio State on a football scholarship and Arya was on scholarship for fencing at Notre Dame. Bran was settling in at MIT, and Rickon was courting football and wrestling recruiters. Jon had enlisted and was stationed in the DMZ in Korea.

Given the successes of his children, if ever there were a time to consider higher office, now was the time. Catelyn longed to move back east closer to her father and brother in Pittsburgh. And if the rumors were true, Jon Arryn's illness would take Catelyn's sister and the boy back to Upstate New York.

Yes, despite his belief that Midwesterners (and particularly Minnesotans) should not stray too far from home, the stars seemed to be aligned. All he needed now was the invitation.

Finally, the wait was over. "Governor Stark?" a staffer opened the door to the Oval Office. "The President will see you now."

Ned rose from the chair he'd imagined himself glue to and made his way into the most recognized office in the world. He hadn't been inside since Robert had been inaugurated two years ago. The personal touches of Aerys Targaryen had been stripped and replaced with photos and memorabilia from Robert's glory days playing college football at Yale.

"Ned!" a voice boomed from across the room. "You didn't wait long, I hope?" They shook hands. Robert gestured to the yellow couches and flopped into one while Ned took the other.

"Of course not, Sir," Ned grinned. "The world waits for you."

"Tell that to Cersei," the other man growled. "Speaking of, how is Cat? I'd tell you I'd read the Sevenmas card, but personal shit like that tends to get lost in the shuffle. I swear Cersei's secretary loses things on purpose."

"She's good. Keeping busy with Rickon's schedule. She takes on the lion's share with that. Makes me wonder if I should've waited until he was out of the house to run," Ned sighed.

"Ah, I get the same thing with Tommen. Seems like he gets a bigger show of support from his secret service detail than from Cersei or me," Robert nodded in agreement. "But the school puts up with enough bullshit with the security and everything. And Jon Arryn actually expects me to _work_," he said with mock disgust.

"Imagine the presidency being a job with responsibilities," Ned said, not hiding his sarcasm.

"Yeah, well Aerys Targaryen did nothing to try to back off old Tywin's wars in the Middle East," Robert shrugged. "I've been at it two years with no end in sight. In fact, everything I try seems to piss them off even more over there."

"I tried to tell you," Ned said.

"You did," Robert nodded, "which is exactly why you're here now. I need you, Ned," he looked serious now, the years showing clearly in the creases on his face and his once completely black hair showing gray at the temples.

"I thought as much," Ned nodded.

"Jon is sick," Robert sighed. "He doesn't think he has it in him to run with me in 2020. And anyway, your sister-in-law is threatening an ugly and publicized divorce if he does."

"What does Tywin say?" Ned asked, studying his old friend's face.

"Ah, fuck Tywin Lannister," Robert growled. "He got me into this mess in the first place. You're going to get me out."

Ned sighed, "You know I can't run on a Republican agenda, even if it is 'moderate.'"

"Whatever you want," Robert said, gesturing around the room, "You're the 'Independent.' Just don't try anything that sniffs of Liberal bullshit. You know Renly is threatening to throw his hat in as a damn Democrat? And worse, Stannis is threatening to primary me."

"Quite the supportive family you have," Ned grinned.

"At least Joff does as he's told," Robert sighed. "I was worried there for a bit when he decided to run. But Jaime keeps him in line."

"Gods forbid any of my children run for office," Ned chuckled.

"Oh, just watch that daughter of yours," Robert laughed, "she gets all the best gossip from the Hill."

"I'll remember that," Ned grinned.

"So you'll do it?" Robert brightened up like a schoolboy on Sevenmas morning.

Ned sighed. "Yes, I'll run with you."

"Praise the Father!" Robert shouted getting to his feet. Ned rose too, and they embraced. "Baratheon/Stark 2020!"

Ned prayed to the Old Gods and the New that he had made the right decision.


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Be sure to read the prologue! It helps layout the world building as well as the larger plot outside of SanSan.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

_March 2020—one year later_

**Sansa**

She was just stepping out of the bathroom after finishing her makeup and getting her coat when her phone buzzed for the fifth time in as many minutes.

_HURRY UP_

_7:55am_

_I'll be right out _

_7:55am_

_Gods, you're as bad as my sister._

_Senators don't care if your hair_

_is perfect if you're not ready with_

_coffee._

_7:56am_

_Do you need a cup?_

_I can make you one _

_7:56am_

_NO JUST GET THE FUCK_

_OUT HERE_

_7:57am_

_Just a minute _

_7:57am_

_Stop with the emojis and just_

_get out here_

_7:58am_

_Please?_

_7:59am_

Sansa sighed. Joff was in a mood already. She grabbed her coffee mug, the other mug from her Keurig along with her keys and the two packed lunch bags, opened the door and locked it, and strode down to the waiting black Escalade.

"Morning!" she said brightly, handing the coffee and a lunch bag to Joffrey.

"Took you long enough," he scowled.

"Ah, she's quick for a lady, Sir," the driver, Bronn, chuckled. "Even brought you coffee and a lunch!"

"That I didn't even ask for," Joffrey grumbled under his breath.

"You always complain that you never have time to meet me for lunch when I invite you, so I thought we could eat in your office," Sansa smiled. "Jeyne is always so busy with Congressman Bolton that she rarely has time to meet me."

"I wonder why," Joffrey rolled his eyes.

Sansa bit her lip and fell silent, watching the morning traffic all moving toward the Hill. She left her hand lying on the middle seat hoping Joffrey would take it. After a minute, he sighed and took her hand in his.

Agent Clegane chuckled from the font seat. "Keep your woman happy, Sir."

"What would you know, Dog?" Joffrey glared. "Beltway whores and politicians' daughters are entirely different."

"You don't know Daenerys Targaryen," the Hound chuckled darkly.

"No, I heard she went to Harvard," Joff smirked and glanced at Sansa. She laughed appropriately for a Yale legacy dating a fellow Yale legacy. "See, Hound? Sansa gets it."

"Miss Stark knows what to chirp, just like a Little Bird," Clegane replied. He fell silent again.

Sansa blushed at his reference to her Secret Service nickname. The rest of the Second Family were all some variation of Wolf, but Sansa had been Little Bird even before her father had run as President Baratheon's vice presidential candidate. Clegane was regularly in Joffrey's detail, and it had been he who had given her the moniker.

Bronn pulled up to the gate surrounding Sansa's building. He flashed his badge, and the guard waved them through. A quick peck from Joffrey, and she stepped out of the Escalade when Agent Clegane opened it for her.

"See you later!" she waved. All she got in reply was the usual growl from Clegane and a honk from Bronn. After they drove away, her phone buzzed.

_Thanks for the coffee._

_8:55am_

She smiled as she stepped into the elevator and rode up to her floor. It was just the stress of the job that had put him in such a mood this morning.

* * *

**Sandor**

Well Simba was certainly in a mood this morning. He kept scowling the entire way to his office. Sandor followed at his usual distance until they stepped into the elevator.

"It's a good thing she's pretty and her father runs the country," Joffrey grumbled. He opened the zipper of the lunch bag and peaked inside. "Rabbit food, of course."

Sandor said nothing. He wasn't paid nearly well enough to offer commentary.

"I mean, would you eat this?" Joffrey thrust the lunch bag into his chest.

"I wouldn't turn my nose up at a woman offering to make my lunch," Sandor growled. Forever the bachelor thanks to his burn scars and horrible personality to match, he'd never been with a woman long enough for her to become domestic.

"Take it then," Joff said, letting go of the lunch bag, "I don't need a lunch bag like I'm six years old."

Sandor shrugged and zipped the bag closed. Congressional cafeteria food was terrible anyway.

The elevator dinged, and they stepped out. Margaery Tyrell was already at her desk picking at her nails.

"Good morning, Sir," she stood and smiled coyly.

"Good morning, Margaery," Joff said, puffing out his chest. "What's on the docket today?"

She rattled off a list of committee meetings and conference calls. Sandor settled into his chair outside Joff's office. It would be a long day sitting on his ass or standing on his stiff leg.

He'd joined the agency not long after Robert Baratheon had been elected. He spent a few months on Joff's detail up in Connecticut and later on the campaign trail before settling down in Washington after the 2018 election. Joff's district was in Connecticut, but like many congressmen, he was rarely there, preferring the White House or the Lannister penthouse suite downtown.

Still, secret service details for the oldest First Son were a far cry from getting blown up in Iraq or Afghanistan. He'd been medically discharged from the Corps after one too many convoy attacks. After leaving Quantico, he used his GI bill at UMBC and then it was off to FLETC followed by an appointment to a federal agency.

Honestly it didn't really matter what he did after he got out, but civil service was easy enough for veterans to get hired on with. All he knew is that he was never going back home. The old man had drunk himself to death a few years back. Gregor never came back either, but he was working for one of those private military companies in Iraq after getting a shady discharge from the Army. Rumor was that it had been an offense worthy of a court martial, but Tywin Lannister had stuck his neck out for the son of an old Army buddy.

Those bastards had approached Sandor, but he wasn't having any of it. He'd sooner beg for re-enlistment. There was no honor in being a private soldier. _Semper fi_, oorah, all that. He might've let his high and tight grow out so he could cover his scars, but once a marine, always a marine.

With nothing to do inside a federal office building, he let his mind wander. His therapist, Brother Ray, was trying to coach him in mindfulness. Sandor thought it was a load of crap, but he did try. Unfortunately, it seemed like today he couldn't shake the image of long red hair and bright blue eyes.

* * *

**Sansa**

The mornings always seemed to fly by in a congressional office. Sansa started off by answering one of the constituent comment phone lines. In her first few weeks she had been reduced to tears a few times, but by now she was well practiced.

"Thank you so much for sharing your concerns. Senator Baelish is deeply concerned with the rising cost of healthcare, especially for Kansans. We are continuing to pressure the President for a new healthcare act," she smiled into the phone. But inside her heart broke. The caller was a "frequent" flyer who called in about once a week because prices for his type 1 diabetes medications and supplies had spiked once again.

"Well done, Sansa," Senator Baelish said as he walked by her cubicle. "Let them believe we're doing all we can."

"But Senator," she bit her lip, "Surely there's something that can be done. The poor man calls every week…"

"Oh my sweetling, you know I wish I could help them," he smirked. "Something to take up with your father the next time you see him. Or your dear mother. I hear she's still determining what her cause will be."

"It's been a busy few months since the election," Sansa bit her lip.

"Indeed it has," he winked and slunk back to his office.

Sansa shuddered. Senator Baelish was one of the more notorious creeps on the Hill, but he seemed to have a thing for her in particular. But he was an old friend of her mother's, and managing her discomfort would be worth it in the future.

She continued to field calls and send out form letters in response to emails until a quarter to noon. Quickly, she logged out of her computer, grabbed her things, and headed for the elevators.

Joffrey's office wasn't too far away, but she was thankful for her pea coat as the last bit of winter chill nipped at her. She flashed her badge at the doorman, ran her purse through the scanner, and rode up the elevator.

At noon on the dot, she strode into Joffrey's office expecting to find him bent over his desk, hopefully waiting to eat lunch with her. But he wasn't there, nor was there any sign of Special Agent Clegane.

Jeyne Westerling was at the reception desk. She gave Sansa a small smile. "He's out for lunch… again…"

"Oh…" Sansa wilted. "Well, I'll be here when he gets back." She put on a brave face, flicked on the light in Joffrey's office, and took a seat to eat her lunch alone. There was no point in wasting her lunch break walking back to her own building even if Senator Baelish did give her extra time. She could usually wheedle Bronn into giving her a ride back to save time.

She decided to spend her time scrolling through Instagram. After a while she came across a post from Margaery Tyrell. It was a picture of her in a popular lunch spot for congressmen with the caption, "Best lunch spot in DC! Even better with a Yale boi! #bestboss #yalebois #smithgirls"

"WHAT?!" Sansa cried. The 'Yale boi' in question was unmistakable. She'd know those green eyes anywhere.

"Sansa?" Jeyne asked, but Sansa didn't respond. She threw her lunch back in her bag, grabbed her coat, and ran for the elevators.

She'd been about to step into the open elevator when she ran headlong into a very large, solid person.

"Little Bird?" Agent Clegane asked.

"I-," she hesitated. God forbid Joffrey come back and see her in such a state! She blinked back tears. "I came to have lunch with Joffrey, but I guess he's not in."

"No…" Clegane said slowly. "He's not."

"Well," she steeled herself. "I hope he had a nice lunch out."

Seemingly out of nowhere, the lunch bag she'd given Joffrey appeared in her hands.

"He missed out," Clegane's mouth twitched, threatening a smile.

"Lucky you," she said icily, sidestepping him into the elevator as tears poured down her cheeks.

Sansa tried to compose herself in the elevator. She took deep breaths and pressed the heels of her palms in her eyes. She knew she was a mess, but she'd have to wait until she made it back to her office and the peace of the lady's room.

But it seemed that today was not her day. Striding in confidently past the secure entrance with Margaery Tyrell hanging on his every word was Joffrey.

"Sansa!" he called. "You should've texted that you wanted to see me." He stood right in her path. "Are you all right, my lady?"

"I thought we had plans," she said quietly.

"I did," he said, brushing her off. "You should know to text me before you just pop in."

"Now I know," she said coolly.

"You should totally come next time!" Margaery piped up. "We had sooo much fun, didn't we Joff?"

"We're back in the building now," Joffrey hissed. "It's 'Mr. Baratheon' or 'Sir.'"

"Oh, right!" Margaery giggled.

"Okay, I'm done," Sansa said, "I have work to do."

"Bronn will pick you up later, and we'll have dinner," Joffrey said.

"You know what?" Sansa paused, "No. I need some space."

"But I got us a reservation!" Joffrey's voice went up a register.

"Take someone else," Sansa started walking. "Take Clegane for all I care! You should really appreciate him more."

"Sansa!" Joffrey shouted after her, but she kept walking.

* * *

**A/N: **Secret Service Code Names

Robert: Black Stag  
Cersei: Sarabi  
Joffrey: Simba  
Myrcella: Bambi  
Tommen: Prongs  
Ned: Quiet Wolf  
Catelyn: Red Wolf  
Robb: Young Wolf  
Sansa: Little Bird  
Arya: Wolf Girl  
Bran: Wise Wolf  
Rickon: Wild Wolf  
Jon: White Wolf  
Jaime: Mufasa  
Tyrion: Imp  
Tywin: Golden Lion


End file.
